The Yule Night!
by Gildor
Summary: Stuck in the snowy wildness of Norway, Hermione and Severous has to find a way to keep warm!


Everything you can recognize belongs to Rowling, the story is mine. A late answer to a Fan fiction challenge. Rating: 17+  
  
The Yule Night  
  
The old cobblestone path lay soggy with trodden snow. Harry Potter Carefully maneuvered down the slippery slope, skidding to a sudden halt on a small rise that overlooked the annual Hogsmeade Yule Fair. It was completely choked; people, stalls, tents, booths, and stages were scattered across the small marketplace, making it a labyrinth of color and noise.  
  
From where Harry stood, he could see beggars, performers, salesmen, auctioneers, witches, wizards, hags, and house elves, all rushing around like ants in a farm. He stumbled down the remaining slope and into the throng, coming to a stop at the bottom of the hill just in time to dodge a small parade of goblins carrying two barrels of cherry wine. Moving this way and that through the boisterous crowd, he could barely see much more than arms and torsos, as people waved and pushed, trying to buy, sell, or just be the first in line for everything from the Famous Wizarding Artifacts auction to the cauldron discount sale.  
  
Even a 6-foot Auror in dark blue uniform robes seemed to vanish in the large mingle of people, and though Harry cherished every moment he could spend in public without people gaping and pointing a this scar, he wished he had taken Hermione's letter under greater consideration. "Haven't you done your shopping yet? Really Harry, you should know better, living in Hogsmeade and all. Don't you know how chaotic it can get around Yuletime? I had mind done in October!" Wide-eyed, Harry gazed across the crowd, realizing ruefully how true Hermione's words had been.  
  
On every side he heard laughter, chatter, and the cries of merchants, making it impossible to even determine where he was. Twisting left and right, then back and forth, he finally managed to make his way to a small clearing near the food stands. Large queues of hungry witches and wizards formed before the small booths, which were selling everything from steaming cinnamon buns, sizzling sausages, to barrel upon barrel's of pumpkin juice. Harry purchased a jelly doughnut from a cheery lady with reddened cheeks, before leaning against the wall of a nearby stall, absently licking the sugar off his fingertips.  
  
"You little thief!" A thunderous bellow brought Harry's attention back on the crowd. Scanning the surrounding faces, he caught sight of a young, wiry man in a worn traveling robe, having a heated debate with a merchant.  
  
"Keep your voice down, man, and allow me to."  
  
"Guards! Guards!" bellowed the merchant, a stocky man in his late middle age, with bushy gray eyebrows, a potato-shaped nose, and a heavy, fussy moustache. "I ought to."  
  
"Honestly, if you'd just allow me to explain!" the younger man implored in a strained voice, only to be cut off as the merchant spat, "There is nothing to explain. you. pilfer!"  
  
By now, an enormous crowd was gathering around the stall, and Harry moved to get away from the milling and bobbing heads that stretched to get a glimpse of the ruckus. He could hear the shouts of the red-faced merchant carrying across the fair, but lost track of the verbal exchange as he edged closer to a table selling pumpkin juice and croaking "Toads in a hole!" He exchanged his spare Knuts for a cup and swung around in time to see the flustered merchant from the argument shoot powerful arms out to grab Harry by the shoulder. "Well, here's a guard!" he shouted, as he shook Harry roughly, spilling the pumpkin juice.  
  
"Thank Merlin you're here!" interjected the object of the merchant's rage, "I would like for you to arrest this man for false accusations!" A wet and puzzled Harry watched the older man sputter and fume in a fury, his grip tightening possessively on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"What? Arrest me?!? You little.. I should. How dare you! Guard! Apprehend this man this instant!" At this point Harry decided he had had enough, and threw both arms in the air, twisting out of the painful grip.  
  
"That's quite enough!" Harry shouted, digging out his wand and drying his uniform with a light tap. "I am not on duty! And I certainly have no time for this!"  
  
"Then go, fetch a guard that is!" demanded the merchant, who was now edging towards the other man, who was in turn rolling up his sleeves and baring his wand in warning. Seeing how there was no getting out of it, Harry drew a breath and said in his most professional tone of voice, "Alright, alright! How about one of you tell me what is going on first."  
  
The wiry man snorted as the merchant turned back towards Harry. "I would be delighted to!" he said, as he shot out an accusational finger, "That.Scoundrel. stole one of my precious brass-plated Snilpers!"  
  
"I did not!" shouted the other man, who thrust out his chest. "You dropped it.. you.. you.. senile nincompoop! I was merely picking it up for you!"  
  
The merchant, further enraged by this statement, turned to the crowd For support. "I have never. how dare.!" By now he, too, had bared his wand, And took two steps back into the customary dueling position. "Defend yourself!" he thundered, as the crowd excitedly pressed forth.  
  
"Now, hold on a minute.." Harry said, as he hurriedly hooked his Auror badge back onto his chest. "Hold it!"  
  
"I want this thief taken away!" 


End file.
